Over the Years
by Scriptorial Therapy
Summary: The ebb and flow of Teddy and Victoire's gradual relationship.
1. Prologue

**Prologue. **

Some children are born with a certain quality that delights those around them. Teddy Lupin was one such child. Only hours after his birth, he had successfully endeared any person who had seen him—or even heard his name. As he grew older, the effect only culminated.

He became an object of infatuation. Adored by Harry, doted upon by Ginny. He was cheeky, but adorable (traits he never outgrew) and, so, his naughtiness was always dismissed. No one could resist the natural charm of the blue-haired boy.

A six-year-old Victoire stood no chance against it.

Unrequited childhood affection surfaced in the usual ways. She was content to just sit and watch him. She was in awe of every aspect of him—the fact he could change his hair or height on demand, his cool behaviour, his overall boyishness.

Teddy was haunted by the girlish crush. He found the younger girl following him incessantly. She watched him with enormous, blue eyes and trailed after him with a hopeless expression. It was as close to unrequited love as it can be at six. Occasionally, out of charity alone, he would give her the time of day. Teddy attended each of her tea parties and pretended to drink from the miniscule, plastic cups—all the while oblivious to the fact he was the guest of honour. She only ever hosted the tea parties when Teddy came over.

Still, this girlish crush only lasted a few months. Like every pretty dress she had owned, Victoire soon grew out of it.

* * *

**A/N: **This is not one of my better stories, and I'm in half a mind not to post it. But what the hell, I might as well. I apologise for its sloppiness.

JK Rowling can claim almost everything with exception to my OCs - and I am very fond of Krishnaa and Digby.


	2. Summer Breezes

**Chapter One - Summer Breeze**

At around the age of ten and eight respectively, Teddy and Victoire became glued at the hip. At least, that was the phrase Fleur adopted. "Glooed at zee hip."

This can be easily accounted for. In the experience of many children, it is always good to have someone close to your age at adult dinner parties and Sunday luncheons. Breaking the guests into generational age groups is a tactical way to stimulate conversations. Children are segregated on one side and adults on the other. Teddy was always placed on the very end of the table, as if he was the fullstop on a particularly long sentence. But this time, Victoire was sitting opposite him. She was preoccupied by her dinner. While the boring conversation unfolded out of the adult's mouths like scraps of cardboard, Teddy realised he needed an ally to survive the experience. Victoire was chosen because she was the closest to his age. It was why they were so conveniently seated together. He kicked her leg hard under the table.

"Ow!" she said, dropping her cutlery with a clank and glaring at him. "What was that for?"

"You're not meant to respond, stupid," Teddy explained.

They leaned in, forming the perfect semicolon on the end of the adult's sentence.

"What?" Victoire whispered.

"Do you wanna go out a little later?"

"What, to play?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why else, stupid?"

Only in a child's mind does this sort of conversation need to take place confidentially. The whispers seemed justifiable in that moment. Perhaps the children thought the adults would be offended that they weren't also invited to go outside and play.

"You're the stupid one," Victoire retorted, but because she gave no example to back up her reasoning, Teddy believed he had won the argument. He leaned back in his seat smugly, and returned to his steak and kidney pie with a big smirk on his face.

They had spent the rest of the evening together, in the usual active fashion of children their age. When they did talk, they talked about inconsequential things—mostly it was Teddy talking, bragging, making it out that he knew the whole world like the back of his hand. They then spent an hour chasing gnomes in the garden. This activity inevitably resulted in some bonding. Teddy had decided that Victoire was pretty cool. She was good at football, and knew how to score a decent goal. She was a capable opponent at hopscotch. She enjoyed chasing gnomes. She was surprisingly a tomboy. This had impressed him enough to extend his friendship to her.

Eventually, it dawned on Teddy that the small, blond girl had once had a crush on him. Where she had previously been shy around him, she was now blunt and critical. She wasn't afraid to give him a piece of her mind. In fact, she gave more than one piece.

"Why do you always change your hair to such silly colours?" she demanded.

Teddy ran a hand through his vibrant, violet hair. "What? You don't like it?"

"It's over the top," she said.

He was a little bit affronted. "But why shouldn't it be? I can make it look however I want."

"But still," Victoire contended. "it stands out like a sore thumb."

"What's your favourite colour?" he asked, changing the current of their conversation.

Victoire did not need time to think about her answer. Without hesitation, she said, "Pink." It was the answer most little girls would give.

Teddy screwed up his face like a piece of paper. The concentration pinched at his eyes and nose until, with a loud pop, the colour of his hair changed to a bright, bubble-gum pink. Despite her earlier reservations, Victoire was impressed. She planted her hands on her hips, trying to conceal her admiration. "You look silly."

From an early age, Teddy believed it was best to fight fire with fire.

"You used to fancy me," he accused.

"What! No I didn't!" she replied, as outraged as he expected her to be.

"Yeah, you did. You used to fancy me."

"You're—you're a _liar_!" It wasn't her best defence, but it was difficult to defend her dignity when her face was burning so.

Teddy enjoyed teasing her over this, pleased by how embarrassed she would get. "Can I get a kiss?" he inquired, puckering up his lips. Victoire turned away, as red in the face as a tomato.

That evening, between cloudbusting and gnome-catching, Teddy presented her with a challenge. If she could catch a gnome, Teddy would kiss it. If she couldn't, she would have to kiss Teddy.

This wager carried a weight to it that none of the other games were encumbered with. It wasn't just her skills at gnome chasing at stake, but also her honour. Kissing Teddy would be mortifying. She would prefer to die rather than let it happen. The very idea of it set her face aflame. Yet, on the other hand, the idea of Teddy kissing a gnome was very satisfying. It would wipe that smug smile off his face. Never again would he condescendingly tease her about her former crush on him. Not with the mental image of him snogging a gnome to contend with. She was confident in her own tackling skills and motivated by the thought Teddy would lose, so she took the bet.

Catching a gnome is not an easy exercise, especially for someone so inexperienced in years. The potato shaped critters ran about on stubby legs, attempting to avoid the girl who chased them. Teddy laughed uproariously from the Shell Cottage steps. Victoire paused, panting, her hands resting on her knees as she doubled over to catch her breath. She glanced up and decided to zero in on one gnome in particular. It was the one that looked the fattest, struggling to run. She squared her shoulders and made a dive for it. The tackle was good, although she ended up with a mouthful of dirt. Spitting out mud, she clenched her hands tightly around the gnome. It squealed and thrashed. She was about to hold it up victoriously when she felt a sharp, painful bite. With a shriek, she let it go, and watched it flee into its burrow.

Teddy stood over her, hands on his hips. He seemed very tall from where she knelt.

"You owe me a kiss," he said.

"No way!" she cried. "I caught it, didn't I?"

"But it escaped!" Teddy defended.

"But I still caught it," she replied. "You said catch, not capture."

"But if it escaped then how am _I_ supposed to kiss it?"

"I dunno. But you're not kissing me."

Neither human nor gnome was kissed that day. Teddy helped Victoire up, and took the blame when Fleur got her in trouble for being so muddy.

But a legacy was left behind.

At the end of the night, the family was busy kissing cheeks and exchanging hugs. The two new friends stood awkwardly on either side of Bill Weasley's long legs. It was a sad goodbye, for a bond had truly been formed, and they were both beginning to feel quite forlorn that they may not see each other until the _next_ adult dinner party. That could be ages away. But Bill looked down and laughed at the children. "Did you two have fun, then?"

"Yes," Victoire replied.

Teddy didn't say anything.

"Perhaps you should bring Teddy over this weekend, Harry?"

Both the children perked up.

Harry nodded. "I'll just ask Andromeda."

It was a date.

* * *

These were their golden childhood days, recalled with gusto like gems among the duller memories they made together. These were the days they explored, ran, hid, whispered, screamed and imagined. They spent every Sunday together, never missing one. It became their personal holy day, devoted to play. When they ran out of things to do, they invented games. They spent hours crashing into the surf and plunging beneath the waves, crossed-legged whilst having underwater tea parties. They found seaweed that they wore like wigs atop their heads. They spent afternoons at the beach, usually watched by Fleur, who would call out for them from the cliff-top. Shell Cottage became their anchor to reality, and they always returned before dusk.

In many ways, their friendship was unusual. Where Teddy was outgoing, Victoire was reserved. Where Teddy was a troublemaker, Victoire was responsible. Yet, they never questioned their companionship.

They became as close as any eight-year-old girl and ten-year-old boy could be.

It was the very best of days.

The following summer was much the same. They saw each other every single week, if not more often. They knew each other as deeply as two children could know each other.

When together, life was an adventure. Sometimes they hunted for peculiar seashells. Sometimes they sat outside the cottage, dangling their legs dangerously over the cliff. Sometimes they would lie on the grass, bellies up to the blue sky, eating slices of orange or nectarine. Juice dribbled down their chins. Sometimes they would find sticks in the garden and pretend to duel. They would argue about who should be the one to die. They became comfortable in that way children become comfortable, sprawling out on top of each other and undressing carelessly out of their swimming costumes into warmer clothes. Glued at the hip.

But that summer was particularly bittersweet.

It hit Victoire very hard that Teddy would be going away. As the final days of August began to flirt with the beginning of the school year, it occurred to Victoire that she would be left behind. She would lose her best friend. Teddy would be off to Hogwarts, while she was stuck at Shell Cottage. There would no longer be any adventures shared. He would find his own friends and move on. He would grow up and leave her stranded in her childhood. This plagued her incessantly.

They spent their final Sunday together, Harry dropping the blue haired boy off and promising to be back in a few hours. They ate oranges and Teddy matched his hair appropriately to the fruit. Talking a million miles an hour, he told Victoire about his new pet owl Patroclus, the new textbooks he had bought, the new school robes he had to try on. He showed off his new wand. Visions of Hogwarts swam before their eyes, but only for Teddy were they a reality. As each one of his descriptions mounted in its grandeur, Victoire began to deflate.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked when he paused for breath.

Victoire shrugged, so Teddy persisted. He pestered her for an answer.

"Well, you're going away for school and we're not going to be friends anymore."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Of course we are! I'll write to you with Patroclus. We have all of next summer. They can't make me stay the summers _too_."

She smiled weakly. "You won't forget me?"

"Of course not, stupid."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

As if to prove that nothing had changed, he gave his usual farewell—"Can I get a kiss?"

Victoire threw an orange at him in response. They parted on that note, with the sound of windchimes crying in the sea breeze and the taste of salt curling their tongues.

But she was right. He did soon forget about her. And for some time, he no longer longed for her kisses.

He was sorted into Gryffindor. New friends were made. He bonded with the boys in his dormitory. He began to settle into classes. He started to become a frequent participant in afternoon detentions. The last thing on his mind was his old best friend. Teddy forgot to write and he forgot to remember. The next summer, he met with Victoire twice. Both experiences felt forced. Gone were their days of silly youth. They had been pulled together as if being pulled by a current, and pulled just as quickly apart.


	3. Flying By

**Chapter Two - Flying By**

Victoire was a tall, skinny eleven year old with a knobby set of knees and too many freckles. She was by no means a confident sort of person. When surrounded by strangers, she preferred not to speak, or else to hang by her parents, or else watch over her siblings. It was not that she was shy—when engaged with, she would make every effort to be sociable. She was just a highly introverted person. Naturally, this meant that starting school that year was anticipated with much trepidation. There was a likely chance that Victoire would not make friends.

The girl in question was not as concerned over this as much as her parents were. The trip to Diagon Alley had inspired a sense of enthusiasm for Hogwarts. The paper shopping bags were scattered around her room, an audience to her excitement. She took out her new wand despite being forbidden to perform magic and spent an hour pretending to cast all sorts of spells, waving it around and making up words.

That year, when the first of September arrived, the date knocked upon her bedroom door and stirred her from her sleep. She woke up feeling like Christmas and her Birthday had arrived simultaneously.

Nerves only began to bubble in her stomach once she and her parents arrived at King's Cross Station. She was dressed in long, khaki shorts and an unflatteringly big T-Shirt but her new school robes were tucked into her backpack, ready to be changed into. Her father pushed her trunk along. Her mother carried the small cage with her new cat inside. She had not been sure whether a cat would be an appropriate pet, but had found the creature amusing. He spent most of his time chasing his tail, never being able to catch it. In an ironic mood, Bill called him Sisyphus and the name had stuck.

They arrived at the barricade between platforms nine and ten. Victoire stared at the solid brick wall.

"Well, go on," Bill Weasley said. "Just walk straight at it."

She nodded, swallowing hard before squaring her bony shoulders. She looked around, but the muggles moseying past hardly glanced in their direction. She refocused on the wall. With a slight running start, she slipped straight through the barricade onto the platform beyond.

The platform was busy with people. A large sign hung over her head, announcing that she was on Platform 9 ¾. The long, burgundy train was waiting like a sleeping beast, puffing out steam as it snored. Children of all ages weaved through the crowd to hug old friends. Just as Victoire was taking the entire scene in, her parents appeared behind her.

Being the eldest child—not only in her immediate family but also counting her extended cousins—Victoire had no one to greet. She hung near her mother and father as they pushed their way towards the front of the platform.

"Ah, there iz 'Arry!" Fleur said, pointing towards the man in question. With her free hand, she guided her daughter through the crowd.

Harry shook hands with the witch he was speaking to before he turned to greet Fleur and Bill. He smiled warmly as he closed the few remaining steps between them. With familiar arms, he embraced them both.

"Where's Teddy?" Bill asked.

Harry looked around, his eyes darting over the heads of the milling students. "He ran off to say hello to his friends." He turned his eyes kindly towards Victoire. "Are you excited to start?"

She nodded mutely.

"Don't be nervous. You'll make friends right away."

She nodded again, clutching her mother's hand more tightly.

"This is typical of Teddy," Harry said with a sigh, his green eyes returning to the crowd. "He always just disa—there!"

It wasn't too difficult to spot a blue haired boy.

His godfather waved him over. Teddy said a parting word to the boy beside him before weaving through the maze of bodies to meet Harry. He greeted the family friends with a cheeky grin. "Aw, Vic's starting this year!"

Her smile was more of a grimace. Although he was two years older, she was the same height as him.

"Listen," Harry said, kneeling down in front of his godson. "Victoire doesn't know anyone so you've got to look out for her."

"Yeah, yeah," Teddy shrugged flippantly. "Of course I will."

Victoire was mortified that she had become some sort of burden. Her face was burning. She shook her head quickly, as if to dismiss what Harry had said. "It's fine, he doesn't have to—"

"No, Teddy's older, it's his responsibility. Don't just ditch her on the train. Got it?" Harry interjected, not taking his eyes off Teddy.

"_Yes_. Merlin, give me a break." The surly teenager took several steps back. "Can I go talk to my friends now?"

Harry rolled his eyes and nodded graciously. Teddy sent a sneaky smile to Victoire before running off. The adults watched him go. Harry laughed. "More trouble than he's worth," he said affectionately.

Victoire was given some last, reassuring words from her parents before the whistle was blown and everyone began to surge towards the train. Hugs were exchanged. Promises were made to write each day. She clutched her trunk tightly in one hand, and her cat's cage in the other. She felt like a gargoyle, weighed down with all of her luggage. Every step closer to the Hogwarts Express felt heavier than the last. When she was on-board, she looked around in spite of herself, hoping to see a familiar face. Teddy had already disappeared and was nowhere in sight. She entered the nearest compartment and pulled her bags inside. The final whistle was blown. She surged towards the window, spotting her parents in the rabble. As the train began to pull away on exactly eleven o'clock, she waved at her mum and dad with tears in her eyes. She watched them disappear around the corner.

Only a few minutes later did the compartment door slide open. A girl walked in with a birdcage under her arm. She was also a First Year, easily identified by the tell-tale forlorn expression. "Can I sit with you?" she asked.

"Of course," Victoire said.

Her name was Krishnaa, and her barn owl was called Garuda. It was enormous, with a ghostly white face and black, button eyes. It sat as still as a statue in its cage, adding to its unnerving appearance. Victoire decided to leave Sisyphus tucked behind her backpack.

They began to talk, and as most eleven year olds do, they bonded over simple things. They had the same favourite colour (orange) and the same preference in television shows. Krishnaa was a half-blood witch, so her understanding of the Muggle world was even better than Victoire's. Feeling generous with her new friend, she bought her some Pumpkin Pasties from the Honeydukes trolley and they shared them together. Victoire began to pray they would be Sorted into the same house.

About halfway through the train trip, just as the two girls were growing comfortable, the compartment door slid open and a boy stuck his head in. He was older than the girls, with brown hair and a button nose. He looked at them both for a moment. "Are you Victoire Weasley?" he asked.

Stunned, Victoire only nodded. The boy shoved his head back into the corridor. "Teddy, I found her!" he yelled.

A moment later Teddy joined them. "Hey," he said, leaning against the doorframe, all skinny legs and bent elbows . "I came to check on you."

"You don't have to," she replied.

"Who's this?" Teddy asked.

"Krishnaa," Victoire supplied, as if that should be obvious. "Who's that?" she added.

"This here is Digby Mullins, my right hand man."

Digby Mullins smiled, showing off a row of crooked teeth. "And this here is Teddy Lupin, my left hand man."

"Naturally," Victoire said.

"Well, we were just checking on you," Teddy said. "I suppose I'll see you later."

"Okay," Victoire said.

Teddy nodded at Krishnaa and left. Digby Mullins slammed the door shut.

Krishnaa turned to stare at Victoire with wide, brown eyes. "Who was that?" She asked.

She was obliged to give a small summary of who Teddy Lupin was. It took her about twenty minutes, including all of the follow up questions she was asked in the aftermath.

"He seemed really cool," Krishnaa concluded.

Victoire shrugged, not feeling particularly inclined towards Teddy at that current time. It was clear he saw her as an embarrassment or a burden. In any case, that was how she felt when his name was mentioned.

When they arrived at the Hogsmeade train station, the First Years were shepherded into a group by the colossal Rubeus Hagrid. Each finger was enormous, the size of a large sausage. He stood over the band of small children, holding a lantern that lit up his grey beard. "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" He roared, using his free hand to wave students towards him.

When he saw Victoire, lugging her trunk, his face burst into a rosy grin. "There yeh are! Vic'orie Weasley!"

Krishnaa gaped at her new friend. "Do you know _everyone?_"

Victoire shrugged. She had never met Rubeus Hagrid before, although she recognised him immediately from the stories she had heard about him. Once they had all assembled, he began to lead them away. Along with the other First Years, Krishnaa and Victoire walked down a shady path until they arrived at a small fleet of boats. They were moored on the shore of a quiet, still lake. Someone exclaimed that they could see a giant squid, pointing out to where a definite splash had just occurred. Some nervous, others thrilled, the young students split into small groups and found their way into the vessels. Seamlessly, they left the dock, floating eerily over the glassy black lake.

Victoire swallowed her nerves down.

* * *

It took the young girl only a matter of weeks to settle into Gryffindor. She had no trouble getting along with the other girls in her dormitory, as she was mild-mannered and quiet. Fortuitously, Krishnaa had also been sorted in the same House, and so she felt no need to make any other friends. She became so well acquainted with Gryffindor that the ghost of Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington knew her by name and stopped to chat to her each morning. Occasionally, she would have tea down at Hagrid's hut, and he would tell her stories. She wrote to her parents every week, giving them long details about everything from the food to her classmates to what she had picked up from the syllabus. She had very little issue adjusting to life at Hogwarts, and found it almost strange to remember the trepidation at the train station before departing.

The highlight, by far, was the flying classes. Her year group assembled on the lawn by the Forbidden Forest. A row of broomsticks sat inanimate and horizontal between each student. Lifeless things. Victoire was itching to touch hers.

She was a naturally athletic girl, despite her insubstantial frame, and nothing appealed to her more than getting on her broom.

Several formalities had to be abided by first. The rules were laid out. The theory was discussed. Then they were told how to raise their broom and mount it correctly.

Over the course of the next few weeks, the students were given more freedom to trial out their flying abilities. It was hardly a surprise to Victoire that she so effortlessly excelled at flying, although everyone else seemed stunned. People cheered her as she glided off the ground, circling above like a bird of prey. Those who didn't know her well began to ask their neighbours for her name. They played games like Stichstock to practice their balance and flying coordination and whenever Victoire was in the position of guardian, she was impossible to beat.

The news spread quickly.

Soon, all of Gryffindor knew about her flying skills. Elinor Wood was ecstatic, informing the Quidditch team that Victoire Weasley would be ready for competition by the following year. As the months progressed, her popularity soared.

She became an object of infatuation. She had a dry sense of humour and an unassuming attitude. She was hardly aware of the affect she had on people, which only seemed to make her more interesting. In her Second Year, she made the Quidditch Team without having to exert herself impressing the Captain. From then on, everyone wanted to be friends with Victoire Weasley (or at least call themselves an acquaintance). It did not help that as she got older, she grew more beautiful. She exited her awkward stage with an unprecedented grace. No one could resist her natural charm.

Teddy was perhaps one of the few people immune to it. He never failed to tell people that her true talent was not Quidditch but gnome catching. "Isn't that right, stupid?" he would ask affectionately. Victoire would roll her eyes, hiding a smile.

Their friendship resumed, although the nature of it had shifted. Teddy looked out for her like an older brother, saving her a seat at Quidditch games where Gryffindor wasn't competing, or else helping her with homework. The time they spent together was often in passing, but it was still much more genuine than it had been in her First Year. Whenever they were together, he would boast to anyone in the vicinity that he and Victoire had always been friends. Perhaps it was cupboard love, but she wasn't one to complain.

No one adored Victoire more than Teddy. She was very blind to it. Perhaps he was, too. Anyone more experienced in these matters would have noticed the crush. Unrequited teenage affection surfaced in the usual ways. He would punch her in passing, or else throw paper planes with sticking charms on them. And then there was the ever-present request—"Can I get a kiss?"

She told him she would prefer to snog a Dementor. He grinned back, smitten.

Still, this was puppy love and it only lasted a few more months. Like every hair colour he had ever tried, Teddy soon grew tired of it.


	4. Rebel Without a Cause

**Chapter Three — Rebel Without a Cause**

It was in his Fifth Year that Teddy hit his rebellious stage.

That isn't to say that he was not a rebellious child. He certainly tested the limits before then. The label is merely there to explain that when he turned fifteen, Teddy began to actively seek out rebellion.

It is not surprising that he became a regular in Detentions. The most infamous incident was when he hid dungbombs in his Potion Professor's cauldron and the entire classroom had to be evacuated. Other amusing incidents included piercing his ear, streaking on school grounds and bewitching seats to jump back every time a person tried to sit on them.

With the skills of a Metamorphmagus at his disposal, he began to think of more devious ways to break the rules. He could impersonate teachers or other students and often get away with it. He could become a splitting replica of Mr. Duff, the caretaker, and roam the halls late at night, unperturbed. His shape-shifting got him most in trouble when he became a girl, in order to get into the Gryffindor girl's dormitories, all because Digby Mullins dared him. Professor Longbottom constantly had to keep an eye on him.

So, by fifteen, he had cultivated a bad boy image. Recklessness seemed best suited to his age, and he had the hair and personality to match. Most of his peers believed his audacity was impressive, but Victoire became very bored of his rule breaking. As he grew more cool, she became colder.

This never ceased to bother Teddy.

"Can you do me a favour?" he asked Victoire one afternoon. She was sitting with Krishnaa at a Common Room table, working on her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

"What sort of favour?" she asked, without looking up.

He leaned in close, until he was only inches from her face. She still refused to look up from her parchment.

"I want to ask Cassandra Stubbs out, but don't know what her taste in boys is."

Cassandra Stubbs was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with Victoire, and she was a really nice girl. There was no way Victoire would subject her to an interrogation for Teddy's benefit.

"Why does it matter what her taste in boys is? Ask her out. If she says no, she says no."

Teddy sighed, and turned to Krishnaa instead. "Krish?"

"Yes?" Krishnaa said, wide-eyed and breathless. Victoire huffed in frustration.

"What do you think makes a guy look fit, in your personal opinion?"

She paused to really give the question thought. "I suppose someone with a darker complexion. Tall. Handsome, with black hair."

Teddy closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. With a pop, his appearance had shifted. His skin was a deep russet, his eyes a heavy brown, his hair inky and thick. All of his features had become heavier, more distinctly shaped. Krishnaa gaped at him, blinking several times in succession. He even had Victoire's attention now, as she studied him, her expression unnerved.

"Would you got out with me?" he asked, his voice the same.

Krishnaa nodded mutely. With a pop, Teddy returned to his preferred appearance.

Victoire was not so easily awed. She sat up and straightened her shoulders, meeting Teddy's eye. "Listen, Lupin. If Cassandra won't go out with you when you're being _you_ then it will never last even if you do look like the sexiest wizard of the year."

"You're so cynical," he sighed, pulling himself up. "And who said I was looking for it to last anyway?"

He did end up going on a date with Cassandra Stubbs, and it didn't end up lasting. It boiled Victoire's blood.

She didn't fancy Teddy, but his immaturity did irk her. The bubbly, bright boy she had once befriended began to encase himself in a snarky, defiant attitude. It didn't take long for Teddy to have his first drink, his first cigarette, his first kiss. He sped through these experiences as if he was checking them off a mental list. And no matter how much he believed he seemed cooler and wiser for having done so, Victoire always felt that it made him seem juvenile. There was nothing attractive about someone who tried so hard to soil their integrity.

With hindsight on side, Fifth Year was a bad year for Teddy. It was a year of unmet desires.

On one late night escapade, he was wandering the halls as Mr. Duff, his skin wrinkled and his back stooped. He happened to pass several Professors along his way, but they only nodded, not recognising that they had just seen a faux doppelgänger. His late night walks were mostly attributed to insomnia, although they had proven profitable. He was often able to steal potion ingredients or sneak into restricted areas of the library or else explore hidden rooms. He became a sleepless sleeper, walking around mindlessly, struggling to tell the difference between dreaming and reality.

He took a turn that night, into a room he had never visited before. It was one of the less explored levels of the school and at first he thought he had stumbled upon an unused classroom.

The room was draped with heavy red curtains, and a fine layer of dust had settled on the velvet. There were no portraits on the walls and no desks occupying the empty space either. The only object in the room was a large, gilded mirror. It was carved intricately, reflecting back the room at large. Teddy began to inch his way towards it. He expected to see the withered reflection of Mr. Duff, but was surprised to see himself, skinny and blue haired, staring back from the mirror.

It had to be magic, he decided. His eyes darted to the engraved words as he came closer. He tried to read the inscription around the gold frame— "_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." _It was no language he had ever seen before. When he returned his gaze to the mirror, he leapt back. He spun around to check if the room was still empty.

It's a magic mirror, he reminded himself as he took a cautious step forward to inspect it further. He could see himself clearly, blue haired and wide eyed. But behind him were two adults. The man had a gentle expression, complemented by a small, timid smile. His light brown hair was streaked with grey, and he had a thin scare the bridge of his nose. The woman beside him was a complete contrast. Her skin was fresh, her hair was bright pink. She grinned hugely, and it was Teddy's grin. But Teddy wasn't grinning.

His parents looked exactly as he had seen them in photographs. His father reached forward and placed his hand gently on his son's shoulder.

Teddy blinked hard. He looked around again, even laying a hand on his shoulder to check if someone was there. He turned back to his own reflection. The boy in the mirror smiled contentedly.

It couldn't be a real mirror, he decided. To test it, he changed his appearance back to his preferred look, but altered his hair to a bright, fire engine red.

In the mirror, it remained its usual blue.

He reached forward, pressing his hand to the glass. His mother's eyes flickered towards it.

It wasn't a real mirror. It was just magic.

Horrible magic.

He began to cry in earnest, falling to his knees, his open palm still resting on the cruel looking-glass. It was all he wanted, all there on the other side, but he couldn't get it.

He never went looking for that mirror again, despite being tempted. He knew that entertaining the idea of parents would never provide him with those he had lost. They were dead. He had to tell himself this often after that night, because it was easy to believe they were simply trapped behind the glass.

The mirror had exposed a hurt in him that had always existed but was rarely acknowledged. It forced him to search for new ways to bury it. When he looked back many years later, Teddy recalls the methods with grimaces. Those awkward first encounters. His desire to start fights. His desire to feel numb. Drinking became a big deal, as did smoking knotgrass. He became the main distributor of recreational potions, which he brewed himself in his dormitory and sold for pocket money. Detentions became more frequent. Despite his wide grin, his eyes became dull. Professor Longbottom always wanted to sit down and talk to him after Herbology, but Teddy became better at making excuses to leave. This behaviour escalated throughout his Fifth Year and continued early into his Sixth Year. He was doing terribly in his classes, although he always acted as if he didn't care. All he wanted, more than anything, was to stop feeling.

But the desire to be loved always outweighs the desire to feel numb.

One night, after a gripping Quidditch match where Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw, an after party was thrown in the Gryffindor Common Room. Digby Mullins had charmed a poster that hung on a wall, depicting a lion mauling a raven. Everyone caroused and joked around, cheering on the players. Teddy made a toast for each person in the team. Everything was a celebration for Teddy, another reason to raise a glass, another reason to get roaring drunk.

Victoire watched him from a corner of the room, still in her Keeper's robes, not touching any of the alcohol. When he made a toast for her—

"_Victoire, my love—wait where is she, where's—Vic! Vic, to you, for being the only bird in the world who can catch a Quaffle like you can. Without Victoire we'd have no victory—haha, geddit?"_

—She wasn't in the least bit impressed.

Everyone raised a bottle and drank. Victoire sat in her corner, feeling surly.

Samuel Thompson, in the year above, sauntered towards her with a cup in his hand. He sat on the arm of her chair, leaning down to speak.

"Great save today," he began.

"Thanks Sam."

She wasn't in the mood for Samuel Thompson. Many boys had shown interest in her over the past year, but Samuel was the only one to repeatedly ignore her rebuffs. It had forced her to become cold and detached, to be direct each time she spoke. Even then, she could not fully repel the stream of admirers, seduced by what she knew was just Veela charm. No matter how rude the fourteen-year-old girl would be, it was never enough to dissuade her devotees.

"You don't want a drink?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied tersely, not providing eye-contact, in fear that would encourage him.

"I was thinking, there's a Hogsmeade trip coming up—"

"No," she said, before he had even asked.

"Aw, c'mon, Victoire. You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"You were going to ask if we could go to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, and spend the day together. The answer is no."

He seemed surprised that she had guessed it, perhaps forgetting that he had asked her twice before.

"You just need to give me a chance—"

"Tell me, Sam." Victoire half stood now, levelling with him. "What do you not understand about _no?_ It's very simple. I do not want to go on a date with you. I am not even remotely interested in you. Why can't you get that through your thick head?"

His face was steadily turning red. She knew several people were looking their way but she didn't care. She was mad, madder than she had ever felt before and she wasn't sure why.

"What's your problem?" he said, his humiliation turning to anger.

"Oi!"

They both turned.

Victoire's stomach summersaulted. Merlin, why now? Why did he choose now to be brave? She didn't want to deal with this.

Teddy stumbled towards them, his expression furious. "Why are you bothering her?"

"Mind your own business, Lupin," Sam snapped.

Teddy pushed him hard in the chest, buffering Victoire out of the way. "This _is _my business, you scumbag."

That's all it took to begin a scuffle.

In reality, it was not Teddy's business at all. The attention he gave Victoire was fleeting. It was usually spurred by jealousy or rage or cupboard love. He would forget about her for weeks on end sometimes, until suddenly, he remembered he had an obligation to protect her. Caught in a drunken stupor, this was one of those times.

Teddy was pounding into Samuel's face, pinning him onto the floor with his knees. He had only landed a few good punches when Victoire pulled him off, yelling for him to stop. Sam remained on the floor, whimpering. She shoved Teddy further away. "What the hell?" she demanded.

Before he could supply a justification, Samuel Thompson was up and hitting him with a curse. "Stop it!" Victoire shrieked as the burst of light erupted from his wand. But she was too late, for the Toenail-Growing Hex was already doing its work. Teddy's shoes split open. He howled.

Victoire grabbed him roughly by the arm and walked him out of the Common Room, pushing him through the portrait hole.

"Why did you _do_ that?" she said as she extracted her wand and hastily performed a counter curse.

He sunk down onto the floor, cradling his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His voice was cracked with anguish.

He was skinny and sixteen and tired from running himself into the ground and finding new reasons to laugh. She prised his hands from his eyes and held firmly onto his face. She forced him to meet her clear eyes. "You must promise me to stop this."

"I was trying to help," he offered her weakly.

"No, Teddy. _All of this_," she retracted her hands to gesture at him. "This is not you. You were never the sort of person who needed to hide behind drugs and grog and your fists…You hit someone! Do you have any idea how uncivilised that is for a Wizard? You should be ashamed."

He was ashamed. It was there in his hazel eyes. He was ashamed.

"I'll stop," he said.

She nodded, knowing it wasn't a dismissal like the few other times he had been confronted.

"I was only trying to help," he added.

"I know."

"I wanted to defend you," he explained.

"Well, I suppose you did a better job at defending me than you did yourself."

"Can I get a kiss?" he asked.

She smiled coyly. "I'd rather die," she said. In spite of this, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"Alright, I can be satisfied with that for now."

She stood and offered him a hand, hauling him up. He was taller than her. She hadn't noticed when he had caught up.

He finished the year going cold turkey. Victoire ordered Digby to raid out the boy's dormitory, finding cigarettes and whatever other illicit items he had accumulated in books and pillowcases. Digby obliged, always impressed by the authority Victoire seemed to carry, and handed the hoard over to her. With Teddy watching on, she flushed it all down the lavatory toilet.

Despite the sleepless nights, pounding headaches and unpredictable mood swings, he was clean after a month. There was a mounting horror attached to this—the realisation that he had been pushing so much down, smothering what needed to be heard. He spoke to Digby one night, and told him about the mirror, and what he had seen in it. Digby had never heard of such a thing before, but told Teddy not to worry about it. "You're right. It's just magic, and there's no use fretting over it. If you focus on what you don't have, you make yourself sick. You feel empty. You have to focus on who is here."

And the advice was good. So, he took it.


	5. Words

**A/N: **This is my longest chapter, but there was a lot to pack in. Thanks for those who reviewed, reviews do make the world a sunnier place. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Four - Tests**

As Teddy entered his final year of Hogwarts, it was surprising just how close he and Victoire grew. They shared the same taste in music, the same love for Quidditch and the same childhood memories. Many would suspect that the age difference would be an issue but what Victoire lacked in years she made up in maturity. These factors were enough to cement their bond. Their relationship was less precarious than before. It had been sealed by late night conversations and pints of orange juice in the mornings. The citrus brought them back to their younger days.

Where Teddy was outgoing, Victoire was reserved. Where Teddy was a troublemaker, Victoire was responsible. In more ways than one, the two companions provided a perfect balance to one another. They coexisted in the same way that light and dark, hot and cold, light and heavy all seek to coexist. They were not opposing forces—they were complementary. Victoire's seriousness complemented Teddy's light-heartedness, and so on. This formula allowed them to flourish.

Teddy settled. He never exactly lost his cheeky grin (and thank Merlin, as that would be a shame). But he began to refocus his efforts on what remained of his education. Moreover, he started turning his negative habits into positive ones. An erratic personality can never be tamed, but it can be tempered.

Victoire grew. She became tall and elegant, with lissom legs and muscular arms. Her hair was like cornsilk. Her laugh was like windchimes. She was always surrounded by company. She went on dates, and this was most agonising of all, because none of the guys were good enough for her and Teddy knew it. Victoire usually came to these conclusions herself—although she did rely on trial and error.

He interfered where possible, the worst time being Victoire's first time, with a boy named Charles Wilkes.

* * *

"I want to go to Honeydukes," Digby complained. Despite now being legally classified as an adult, sweets remained his priority.

"We will, I swear."

"And Weasley's Wheezes."

"For Merlin's sake," Teddy huffed. "We _will_, alright? I just need to run an errand first."

The streets were cold and frosty, and Teddy's hair was appropriately white. Glittering Christmas displays danced in shop windows and flowering reefs hung from doors. No neck went without a scarf. It was that sort of season. The two young men plodded through the main strip of Hogsmeade. Digby could not be certain what this mysterious errand was, but was beginning to question accompanying Teddy for it. There was only so much a friend can put up with. They were nearing the Hog's Head, and there was no way Digby was going to meet a dodgy stranger to trade dragon eggs with, or whatever Teddy had in mind.

But they continued past the establishment, walking on until they came upon a particular teashop that neither boy would usually be caught dead in. "Alright," Teddy said, giving Digby a shifty look. "I need you to do me a favour."

Charles Wilkes had invited Victoire down to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop as a sign of goodwill. He was a polite and considerate Hufflepuff with wavy hair and a wide, flat nose. He shrugged his shoulders when he spoke, as if he was never quite sure of what he was saying, but Victoire was beginning to suspect this was a nervous twitch. It was her first date—at least, her first proper date—and she had agreed because Charles was too lovely a boy to refuse.

She stared into her teacup, realising just how uncomfortable the entire situation was. The conversation had mostly been stilted. They were surrounded by couples; people from school who were in the years above. They were all holding hands over the table top, or else kissing ineffectually in the corner booths. Their love was on display, a free performance, like street-buskers. It made her feel as if there was some sort of standard to uphold. She cleared her throat and glanced back up at Charles. He was still staring at her, as he had been since they arrived, with a sort of dreamy expression. She wondered if he would be capable of producing any intelligent conversation whilst in her presence. She was beginning to tire of what Krishnaa called the "veela effect."

"What's your favourite subject, Charlie?"

"Well," he said with a start, as if jolted from a reverie. "I'm not a fan of the more _methodical _subjects, like Potions and Astronomy. I do quite like Diviniation."

"Really?" Victoire sat up straighter, excited that he did indeed have a personality. "Could you read my tealeaves then?" She joked, offering her teacup.

A look of panic crossed over Charles' face. "Oh, well, I'm not sure if I could right now. This isn't the—the right sort of _place_ for it…"

"I was just joking," she replied kindly, placing the cup back on its saucer. She cleared her throat again.

"What's your favourite class?" he asked nervously, clearly floundering.

"I do quite like Astronomy."

"Oh, so do I!" he said with enthusiasm.

"But you—but you just said you don't like subjects like Potions or Astronomy," she replied slowly.

"Oh, I know. What I meant was those _sorts_ of subjects. But Astronomy is the exception."

"Naturally," Victoire sighed.

It was the usual way boys acted around her. What little they could get out was worthless babble and pathetic flattery. She thoughts Charles may have been different.

It was at that moment a bell tinkled over the door and two new patrons entered the teashop. Victoire glanced over, partly out of curiosity and partly out of boredom. She was stunned to see Digby Mullins walk into the shop, shrugging off a thick coat, followed by a girl she did not recognise. Her hair was long and brown, and her skin olive in tone. He offered to take her coat as well, which was quite boxy around the shoulders, but she refused. Victoire ducked down into her seat, embarrassed that an older friend of Teddy's had just entered. She knew if it came back to Teddy that her date with Wilkes was an utter bore, she would have to hear about it from him.

"Is everything alright?" Charles asked.

"Yes," she said too quickly.

"You know," Charles began, stirring some sugar into his cup. "Your left lung is smaller than your right lung to make room for your heart."

Victoire made a kind of unintelligible sound in the front of her mouth, feigning interest. She began to struggle to think up a reply. Digby and the girl were pushing their way over to a booth, followed by the waitress holding two menus. "That's interesting."

"Yes, my sister is a Muggle doctor—you know, the kind that cut people open—"

"Yes, I know," Victoire said, never having been sheltered from the Muggle world and not finding the description of a doctor particularly impressive. "I suppose it's all very gory business, cutting people open and sewing them back up. I'm relieved we have magic."

She was highly conscious that Digby and his date were watching her, and gulped hard. Her legs were crossed under the table, and her hands were resting in her lap. Unlike the other boys who had shown interest in her, Charles did have chivalry and manners, but he too seemed to forget how to speak when they were in close proximity. She was beginning to feel quite miserable. She picked up the teapot with shaky fingers and refilled her cup. Charles reached forward to steady the pot as she placed it back onto the table, and followed suit by placing his hand on top of hers. The gesture was completely awkward, and probably motivated by the neighbouring couples who were doing the same. Steam rose between them from her refilled teacup.

Self-consciousness began to overwhelm her, and she glanced back over to Digby Mullins' table. He was now drinking a coffee with a sour expression on his face. She wondered if perhaps his date was not going very well either. He was having some hard words with the girl sitting opposite him, growling in a low voice that it was time they should leave.

"So, where abouts do you live?" she asked distractedly, trying to keep the conversation going. Her hand felt like a dead fish, pinned underneath his.

"Waverley, in the South East," he replied, but Victoire was completely inattentive by this point.

It was very out of character for Digby to speak in such a way, especially to a girl. She didn't seem to recognise the stranger, no matter how hard she tried to place her face. How did Digby know her? Was it a set up? Victoire strained her ears to hear.

"Finish your coffee," the girl rebuked in a low whisper, matching her date's harsh tone.

"This is pushing our friendship too far," Digby replied, but nevertheless, took a gulp of his coffee.

"You're my right hand man, and you _promised_."

"Wait," Victoire said, interrupting Charles' detailed description Farnham's architecture. "Sorry," she added as she slipped her hand away and made her way around to Digby's table.

The couple straightened up. Their culpability smelt as strong as the freshly brewed coffee.

"Teddy, is that you?" she demanded of the brunette sitting primly with her legs crossed.

"Er, no, sorry?" the imposter turned imploringly to her partner "Digby, who is this?"

"The gig is up, Ted. Admit defeat," he replied, gulping down the dregs of his drink. With a candid hand, he threw some gold onto the table and made his way out of the teashop, adding that he could be found in Honeydukes.

"You—you were _spying on me?" _Victoire demanded.

"Oh, come on. I just wanted to check up on you," he replied. It was disorientating, these words coming from a strange girl's mouth.

Victoire stormed over to her table, picked up her bag and thanked Charles (who remained seated, looking utterly flummoxed) for a lovely afternoon. Without further discussion, she had stormed out of the teashop.

That was probably the worst incident, and it took some begging to be forgiven, along with promises that he would never invade her privacy again. He even said he would cross his heart and hope to die. Teddy was much more furtive in the future when spying on Victoire's dates.

* * *

With both O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. coinciding, they often found themselves together in the library. It was a place of common interest, and soon became the backdrop to their strange relationship. The high ceilings gave the feeling of a cathedral, and the aged books sat like relics on their shelves. They whispered to one another, even when there was no librarian to yell at them, and her breath tickled in his ear.

Sensible, but sweet, Victoire spent every weekend leading up to Teddy's final exams helping him study. She made him flashcards for Divination and she tested him on different dates for History of Magic. When they got kicked out of the library for being too rowdy or staying too late, they returned to the Common Room. They stayed up into the nights, sitting by the fireplace, going through textbooks and occasionally taking extended breaks, finding themselves laughing over his Divination notes until they were in stitches. Teddy's friends teased him for spending so much time with the younger girl, which was enough to coax a few uncouth words from him. But little dissuaded him from spending his afternoons with Victoire.

Teddy said he felt bad—she should be studying for her own set of exams. Victoire always scoffed in response. "I having nothing to worry about. I could practically sit my N.E.W.T.s tomorrow after helping you with all this advanced magic."

She had a fair point.

The week of his exams were the most testing weeks of his life.

Having not much cared for his Fifth Year results, doing well in his finals felt imperative. This was psychological more than anything. For the work he wished to pursue, high marks weren't necessary. Realistically, his goal was to pass, aiming for an average result. But doing well was something he needed to do for himself. He had a desire to prove himself, to rectify his past. It would be a sin not to take that opportunity with both hands.

He grew fidgety as he waited for the exams to begin, pacing the halls and recounting the quills he had brought with him. Unlike the other students, he and Digby Mullins were thoroughly searched for any cheating devices. He tried to take the gesture as a complement.

When his first exam began, he furiously attacked the paper, tearing through each question as quickly as he could. Answers floated their way towards him, sometimes dim and difficult to decipher, but otherwise bright and easy to recall. In his Charms theory exam, the words on Victoire's flashcards flared before his eyes. Each question was tackled with confidence. Teddy could not help but feel pride as the time was called and everyone was forced to place down his or her quill. He gave a thumbs up to Digby.

As each exam was laboriously completed, a sense of celebration began to build. The end of school was swiftly arriving, and soon graduation would be upon them. This was it. Soon, Hogwarts would be a memory and the real Wizarding world would be spread out at their feet. Digby and Teddy had made plans to rent a flat in Diagon Alley, to find an internship and attempt to live with the host of adult responsibilities that loomed in the near future. The thrill of it all was made more potent by the accompanying terror.

Perhaps, what made Teddy most nostalgic was leaving Victoire behind.

It's just two years, he would remind himself. And we will have the summers.

But he knew that she would likely forget him, immersed in friendships and learning and magic. Her younger siblings and cousins were beginning to filter into the lower year-groups of Hogwarts. She was now the eldest, accompanied with the responsibility to look out for them. When he left school, their companionship would likely fade, and only be prolonged in obligatory Christmas cards and birthday gifts.

But when Teddy looked back, he realised that over all this time, the younger girl had truly been looking out for him. He had failed his responsibility, and she had picked up the slack. You can't just let go of friends like that.

The graduation ceremony was beautiful. The feast was as extravagant as the first day of term. The teachers stood to give speeches. Professor Drummond congratulated each Seventh Year student who was called up to the platform to receive a certificate. At the end of the ceremony, the entire Seventh Year class stood together, and with voices that swooned, sang the school song.

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, _

_Teach us something, please, _

_Whether we be old and bald _

_Or young with scabby knees,"_

Teddy had chosen to sing in a high falsetto, and his voice was beginning to strain. He grinned as he hit his highest notes, turning the song into an opera.

_"Our heads could do with filling _

_With some interesting stuff, _

_For now they're bare and full of air, _

_Dead flies and bits of fluff, _

_So teach us things worth knowing, _

_Bring back what we've forgot, _

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest, _

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

On completion, Teddy was filled with an overwhelming sense of sadness. Never again would he have reason to sing that song. As he had taken a much quicker tempo than several others, he listened as the higgledy-piggledy tunes conflicted and melded together in a strange echoing round. When the last person was finished, everyone cheered and threw their pointed hats up into the air, repeating an old tradition. The limp garments exploded overhead into fireworks. Under the blur of colour and sound, the students embraced one another, some crying and others laughing.

As the night drew to an end, the experience became surreal. Feeling both eleven and seventeen, Teddy sat beside Digby Mullins as their small boast sailed across the inky black lake, watching Hogwarts disappear. When they reached the Hogsmeade train station, their luggage was waiting for them. Just like that, their journey was over.

* * *

Victoire could not hide her sadness that evening. She had managed a quick goodbye to Teddy between the final exam and the feast, yet it had been rushed and lacking any sentiment. Although she had prepared herself for this second desertion, she could not help but feel nine years old again, left behind as Teddy moved into the next phase of his life.

She lay on her bed, feeling her age. She turned it over in her hands. It's a hard age, fifteen. All sharp edges. An in-between age. She had never stopped to feel it before, having always been so busy being older. It was made worse by the mounting feeling of isolation that she was beginning to experience. Sisyphus uncharacteristically sprung up onto her bed, in an attempt to appear affectionate. She wrapped her arm around his fat belly and remained in this reclusive state for some time. She thought she may begin to cry, but she was never one for tears, and she resented that now she wasn't able to produce any. It would have been the perfect time for a cry.

Her self-pity was only interrupted when Krishnaa entered their room. She paused hesitantly by the door, knowing Victoire well enough to differentiate between boredom and despondency. After a moment, she approached. "I was told to give this to you once he left."

Victoire sat up, frightening her cat off the bed. She swivelled around to better examine the package in her friend's hand. It was wrapped in brown paper, but was otherwise blank. She took the parcel and turned it over. It was hard, and felt like a book. Teddy would never give a book as a gift.

"From Teddy?" she asked.

"Who else?" Krishnaa replied.

Victoire carefully ripped open the package. Inside was a leather bound diary and a rather ordinary quill. She sniffed the brown leather, as if expecting it to be a book hiding as something else. It was a practical gift, yet completely unremarkable, and considering the nature of the giver, this was a disappointment.

Tentatively, she opened it. A note fluttered out. It was written in Teddy's familiar scrawl.

_Surprise! I bet you hated my guts for just taking off without a proper goodbye. _

_(I'm assuming we didn't get a proper goodbye, I'm writing this a week before exams start.)_

_ But anyway,_

_The reason you did not get your proper goodbye is because this is not goodbye._

_What you hold in your hands, Vic, is a charmed notebook. I have the matching one. When you write in it, your words will appear in my book, and vice versa. That way, when we use them at the same time, we can have whole conversations. Consider it a magical form of text messaging. _

_I promised I wouldn't forget you, and this time I intend on keeping my promise._

It was not signed, but the signature would have been unnecessary.

She buried her face in the note, as if hoping to catch his scent, but it just smelt like parchment.

"He really likes you," Krishnaa said.

Victoire dropped the card and rolled her eyes. "He's seventeen."

"So?"

"And he's too immature for me anyway."

Krishnaa scoffed. Delicately, she sat on the remaining space of the bed. She began to finger her long braid, her expression cautious, turning over the words before she spoke them. "All those boys you've dated aren't _genuinely_ interested in you, and you know it. Teddy is the only boy who has actually bothered to know you."

Victoire stared at the note, butterflies blossoming in her stomach.

"Do you really think he likes me?"

"Well, I can't say whether he fancies you or not. But for him to go to all this trouble, he mustn't _dislike_ you."

She gave her best friend a gentle kick, but they both laughed, and Victoire came downstairs with her for dinner.

Later that night, she wrote in the notebook to thank him.

He responded only a few minutes later:

_You'll have to write neater than that._

And she laughed quietly to herself, almost hearing his voice as she read it.

Soon, the rest of Hogwarts had finished the last remaining weeks of the term and departed for home. That summer, Victoire found her time around Teddy much more electrifying. The slightest brush of their knees or hands was enough to be overanalysed. Even eye contact became heavier.

He navigated conversations with ease, unlike all the other boys who ogled her. This seemed to make it harder to determine whether he did like her or not—he never flattered her. He never fawned over her. He always looked her in the eye when they spoke. He affectionately called her stupid, as if she was still eight. Of course, this only fostered her feelings for him.

Their twin notebooks became invaluable the following year, now that he was out of school. Teddy and Victoire wrote often. Her Sixth Year was spent in late night correspondences. She would write to him about her day, and he would respond in kind; telling her about his internship and his lack of pay and his diet consisting of cheap, slightly questionable meat pies and beer. Whenever Victoire's responses were clipped and cold (clear signs that the day had gone badly) he would doodle elaborate pictures for her. She watched quizzically as each stroke appeared, until it became clear that he was drawing a mountain troll labelled with the name of one of her previous boyfriends. She learned to laugh silently, as to not wake anyone in her room, and the effect was painful on her abdomen. Discussions spiralled into deeper topics, the kind of things that weren't usually discussed. Regrets, hopes and desires. They learned how to read the modulation of their handwriting and match it with their fluctuating moods. They would lose sleep to talk to each other. They knew each other as deeply as two people could know each other.

The holidays were particularly sweet, as it meant getting to speak to Teddy in person. Although she enjoyed his gift, out loud conversations had their benefits. She could admire his vermilion or cerulean hair, watch his eyebrows jump with each sentence, examine the most recent tattoo and savour the subtle intonation of his voice. These were the simple pleasures that she appreciated.

What had changed over the course of a decade? Victoire was still hanging off the boy's every word, engrossed by the way he seemed to know the whole world like the back of his hand. Unrequited affection surfaced in the usual ways. She was content to just sit and watch him. She was in awe of every aspect of him—the fact he could change his hair or height on demand, his cool behaviour, his overall boyishness.

Of course, much had transpired in a decade, but it didn't seem that way at all. They ate oranges together in the summer. They swam down by the seashore. At the annual August dinner party, they sat between the adults and the children (yet their whispered, semicolon conversations continued nonetheless). They had to keep an eye on their younger siblings and cousins, but otherwise, they were falling into familiar routines.

To entertain the younger ones, they went outside and staged a competition.

"Whoever catches a gnome gets a prize," Victoire said.

"What's the prize?" James asked eagerly.

"Eternal glory," Teddy answered, sweeping his arms out to add the illusion of grandeur.

"That means nothing," Roxanne said.

The two teenagers looked at the motley mob of children. "Catch a gnome and we'll let you kill it."

This was incentive enough to send them all running, yelling war cries. The adults remained inside, talking warmly, unaware of their children's barbaric activities. There was no need to worry, though. After years of practice, the gnomes at Shell Cottage had become adept at outrunning humans. Teddy and Victoire sat on the stone steps leading to the front door. Teddy wrapped his arm around Victoire's shoulders, under the pretence of keeping her warm. They listened to the sea sigh and the sound of the crying windchimes. The air was bittersweet, sprayed with salt and laughter. How odd they both felt. Completely removed, as if they were peering into a Pensieve. Neither spoke. How little (or rather how much) had changed in a decade.

When Teddy noticed a particularly fat gnome stick its head out of a burrow, he even asked the age-old question, with a cheeky smile on his face—"So when can I get my kiss?"

But she blushed now, wishing very much that she had not dived for that gnome all those years ago. That she had lost the bet. That she did have a good excuse to kiss him.

And although she did not notice it, Teddy blushed too.

Whilst the children were distracted, he took the opportunity to speak to her properly—almost formally. He withdrew his gangly arm and cleared his throat. "So, you start school next week."

Victoire only nodded.

It was heavy between them. That weight that is bloated by possibilities. The possibility that he may tell her how he feels, that she may tell him she feels the same, that he may just lean in and kiss her, or that he may not. It was all there, hanging between them. She felt a little breathless, her heart racing at the prospect.

But Teddy only sighed and leaned back. With wary eyes, he returned his attention to the gnome catching. And just like that, the moment was over. There were no possibilities at all, and the air between them was flat. She was embarrassed for having imagined it.

"I'll come see you off," was all he said. And it sounded like the rest of his promises had—empty.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue. **

They arrived at the barricade between platforms nine and ten. Victoire stared at the solid brick wall.

"Well, go on," Bill Weasley said.

She had felt a sense of finality when she woke that morning, and she had carried it with her to King's Cross Station. This would be the last time Victoire would enter through this barricade—perhaps, until she had children of her own. It dawned on her that this would be a year of lasts; her last train ride, her last welcome feast, her last Quidditch game and her last set of exams. She was not usually a sentimental person, but she couldn't help but feel the nostalgia fluttering beneath her ribs. She squared her shoulders and walked forward at a brisk pace.

Despite the hubbub of Platform 9 and ¾, they spotted their family easily. Molly Weasley was standing close by with her parents, as were Fred and Roxanne. They went over to say hello, genially embracing and asking how they had arrived—whether by car, knight bus or even more seditious means. As was custom, Victoire greeted her younger cousins, asking them vague questions about whether they were excited about the term ahead. She didn't much care for their answers, just as they didn't much care for the questions. Everyone was preoccupied, and secretly desperate to locate their own friends. Soon after, they noticed the Potters arrive. Harry seemed to be talking sternly to both his sons. It was Albus' first year, and he looked nervous. Bill and Fleur decided not to approach just yet.

Victoire felt particularly auspicious, being one of the eldest in the company of school children. She crossed her arms over her shirt and tried not to feel so uneasy.

"Do you want help with your bags?" Bill asked, but Victoire waved him off, lest she became sentimental once more.

"I'm going to go find my friends," she said. "I'll meet back here before eleven to say goodbye."

Fleur leaned in to kiss her daughter anyway, as if terrified she would not return. Victoire sighed, but relented.

It took her a few moments to locate Krishnaa within the crowd. They greeted each other in a rush of tight limbs and exclamations. Even Garuda seemed less standoffish than usual, opening one beady black eye to examine the new arrival. Victoire began to quiz Krishnaa on her break, asking about how her holidays had been. They spoke of exotic Indian cuisine and markets, and the relatives that had been visited. "I suppose it's best that most of my extended family live overseas," she concluded. "How do you put up with so many cousins?"

"Why do you think we live on a rock in the middle of nowhere?" Victoire replied in jest.

"One more year," Krishnaa said, her smile stretched across her face, impossible to remove. "One more year and we're done."

Victoire sighed. "It feels like yesterday that we started. I was just thinking, I'm glad that you came and sat with me on the train."

Krishnaa's smile was sincere, but whatever she was about to say was lost as they heard a shout across the platform.

"Victoire!"

They both looked around, wondering if it was imagined.

"Who was that?" Krishnaa asked.

Victoire shrugged, her eyes searching the crowd. "I don't know, but half my family is here to send their children off so I'm sure it's someone I'm related to."

They laughed, as this seemed to be an illustration of their earlier qualms. The girls turned away, expecting that whoever it was had abandoned pursuing them. But a moment later, they heard her name called again, this time much closer. Krishnaa spotted him.

"It's Teddy Lupin," she said, sounding surprised.

He had made enough of a spectacle that he no longer needed to push through the crowd. Those who recognised him parted immediately, and those who did not were so impressed by his appearance that they stepped aside anyway. He had his usual blue hair, including the stubble on his jaw. His eyes were a warm, chestnut brown. He was in a T-Shirt that advertised the logo of a well-known band, and also showed off one of his more beloved tattoos of a howling wolf, inked across his stringy bicep. As he closed the little remaining distance, his run collapsed into a brisk saunter. Victoire could feel the heat rising in her face.

"Hello ladies," he said now, his voice low and composed.

"I'm going to leave you two alone," Krishnaa responded, patting Teddy on the shoulder in passing.

"Wait—I—well, okay. Bye, Krish!" Teddy called over his shoulder. She only raised her left hand in response, carrying her birdcage in the other. "Nice girl, she is. She went away this summer, didn't she?"

"What are you doing here?" Victoire asked, bewildered.

"I told you! I've come to see you off."

It was almost inconceivable—Teddy had never come to see anyone off. Teddy steered clear of high school students wherever possible.

"You didn't think I would come, did you?" he teased. "Ye of little faith."

Victoire's eyes darted about. She was embarrassed that so many people were watching them. Both old and young were intrigued by the tattooed boy with the blue hair and the girl accompanying him, tall and blond, with too many freckles. What an odd pair, they must have thought. She took Teddy by the arm and dragged him some way down the platform, until they were partially extricated from the crowd. They stood near the maroon body of the Hogwarts Express, surrounded by steam.

"You didn't have to come," Victoire said.

Teddy feigned an offended expression, but there was some real hurt in his eyes. "You didn't want me to come?"

"No! That's not what I meant." She sighed, and as it was quieter where they had relocated, she was able to gather her thoughts. "Teddy, you're not obliged to do anything anymore."

"What?" he replied, stunned.

"You don't owe me anything."

"Of course I don't," he said. Teddy seemed a little annoyed by the direction of the conversation. "What? You think I hang around you because I owe you? As if. I've never been the sort of person who pays off debts. Ask my Gringotts account manager."

Victoire apologised, but Teddy waved her off, seeming embarrassed. He cleared his throat and offered her something he had concealed in his hand. The gesture was almost ceremonious, matched by the seriousness of his expression. "I came, because I wanted to give you these." She reached forward to take the small pile of cards. The gift was underwhelming. It took Victoire a moment to leaf through them before she realised what they were.

"Your flashcards," she said. They were the ones she had made him during his Seventh Year. The ones that flashed the correct answers when one responded to the question written on them. The perfectly cut squares had begun to fray. Whatever magic she had used to create them had since faded, so both question and answer were duly visible.

"_Your_ flashcards. I thought you could use them since it's your final year," he explained.

"But I don't even take Divination."

He paused as this registered. "Ah…Shit. Stuff that then," he said, taking back the flashcards and burying them in his pocket, as if he wanted to erase the entire gesture. Victoire smiled nonetheless.

They fell into silence—an unusual feat by their standards. Teddy tucked his hands away into his pockets and Victoire examined his combat boots. The laces were untied. He was standing at least three feet away. It was a strange distance.

"This is your last year," he suddenly said, as if this was what he had been bursting to say from the start, and the rest had all been an odd formality. Victoire only nodded in response. Teddy plunged on. "After that, you're free. We can hang out afterwards, properly. I'll take you to all the best pubs. And Digby knows the lead singer of the Sphinxes so we can take you to a concert one night."

But the plans seemed mitigated by the very prospect of Seventh Year. It was clear that she was unconvinced.

"It'll be like every day is a summer Sunday. And you'll legally be able to drink. We'll hang out all the time."

"All the time?" she repeated, her smile growing.

Teddy continued to blunder, listing the many organised activities that adulthood entailed—activities that seemed to have been carefully thought up. Each was suggested with clarity, as if he had designed a mental list. A pub crawl, concerts, professional Quidditch matches, music festivals. The list went on and on. It was all very odd—Teddy arriving to see her off, the almost ritualistic returning of the flashcards, his strange speech-like formality. Each action was deliberate, as if he was working from a plan. It was very unlike Teddy. It lacked spontaneity.

It reminded her of the charmed diary he had given her—the way in which the gesture seemed forced, despite the sincerity of the sentiment behind it.

The meaning of this behaviour began to dawn on Victoire.

For Teddy to ever attempt at being romantic, he would need to have planned the gestures meticulously. That's what this was, Victoire realised. His attempt at romance.

In moments like these, the world seems to slow right down.

Teddy faltered in his recital as he noticed the look in Victoire's eye. "What?" he asked.

She couldn't help but beam. She wasn't imagining things, she was certain.

"What?" he insisted, growing nervous.

"A year really doesn't seem that long," she replied coyly.

He now mirrored her smile. "Not very long at all."

She placed her hands around his neck. She felt bold, despite her butterflies. Teddy responded reflexively, closing the awkward space that had previously stood between them. As his hands found her waist, he almost seemed relieved. They were so close that the air they shared was making Victoire giddy.

"I'm going to miss you," he went on, as if continuing his speech. But Victoire quietly hushed him. His eyes seemed unfocused now.

She asked him the age-old question. "Can I get a kiss?"

It was long overdue, and so they wasted little time in allowing their lips to meet. They leaned against the Hogwarts Express, kissing in the steam as if they were emerging from a cloud. It was long and sweet. They did not draw apart until—

"Teddy?"

Victoire broke away, surprised by the interruption, but Teddy (his eyes still closed, his expression still symphonic) found her lips once more and mumbled against them, "just ignore him."

"Teddy!"

James Potter was pulling on the bottom of his trousers. He was not easy to ignore. The pair was forced to break apart again.

"W-What are you doing?" the boy asked, his wide brown eyes darting between them.

Victoire rolled her eyes, bemused despite her embarrassment.

"We are snogging," Teddy explained, the frustration evident in his voice. "And we're a bit busy, James. Run along now."

He ignored the agog boy, turning back to Victoire and asking with his more characteristic grin, "Where were we?"

He leaned in to kiss her again, despite the fact that her young cousin stood there for another ten seconds or so (watching on, as if to certify what he was seeing). When he registered the very enormity of this piece of news, he ran off in the direction he came from. No doubt, James would have announced it to the world in just a few more moments. Victoire pulled away again. "Everyone is going to know now," she said, thinking in particular of her uncle and aunt, her parents.

Teddy began to laugh. "Everyone always knew, Vic."

She couldn't disagree with him there.

Their kiss was bittersweet—it was their first, and it had been long anticipated, but it would also be the last for a long while to come. It was enough to satisfy Teddy for the time being.

Some women are born with a certain quality that enchants those around them. Victoire Weasley was one such woman. Before she had even reached puberty, she had successfully endeared any person who had seen her—or even heard her name. As she grew older, the effect would only culminate.

A nineteen-year-old Teddy stood no chance against it.


End file.
